Let me tell you a story about Illyana, a woman who has run out of time, a wizard in a world of mutants, the most responsible person ever.
Illyana was born to Mikael and Anya Ievgenovich on January 25, 1992. They lived in the wilderness about 100 miles outside of Omsk, Russia. It was a simple life, but they wanted for nothing. Mikael worked hard as a logger, and always provided for his family. Or at least, until the accident.
After a tree fell on Mikael’s leg, it became infected. Illyana was twelve at the time, and wasn’t going to let her family wither and die. She started working in the local small town, two or three jobs, sending all the money home. She also started attending school, and quickly realized how smart she was. Her father didn’t get worse, but he didn’t get better either. So after high school, she attended college, then medical school, rushing through in record time. Sure, her grades weren’t stellar. But by 25, she was trained as a doctor, with some knowledge of surgery. And back she went, setting up her parents at a rehabilitation center and staying in their simple cabin, becoming the area’s only doctor.
But she had a problem. All that learning, all that knowledge…she needed more. She taught herself English, German, and French. Every time she went into town for supplies, she stopped at the local bookstore, hoping for a new text. A few years into this ritual, a book finally caught her eye. It was large, looked very old, and…seemed to speak to her. When she brought it to the shopkeeper, he looked surprised, like he had never seen it before. Had Illyana found this book, or had it found her? She couldn’t have known how prophetic this thought would be.
Two years later, she had made basically no progress. It turned out that the book was filled with archaic magic spells, and the first one she tried, her hand sparked, just for a moment. That was all she needed to keep going, but after this long without success, she was starting to lose hope. One day, while she was making a house call, the book started…moving. By itself. She ran home to look at the book, and it was open to a spell:
Hold soil from your homeland in your left hand, exposed blood in your right, look at your reflection, and speak the words “Break the chains of mortal limits.”
And so she did. Against all her better judgment, against every neuron that told her to double-check and peer-review and be careful, she performed the actions. And then the mirror shattered, her blood exploded out of her hand, and she passed out.
When she woke up, she was covered with shattered glass, she had successfully blasted a hole in the wall of her cabin, and there were no sounds of nature. When she went outside, all the birds were on the ground unconscious, a wolf was out cold and not breathing, and a scared deer ran off at 120 mph. What the hell is going on, she thought. That’s when she heard an explosion from the town 20 miles away, and a man on fire flew over her head. Knowing that the greater problem was the town, she hopped in her truck and took off. Halfway to town, the book flew through her window and dropped into the passenger seat.
In the town, everything was awful. The one firetruck was on its side, the driver’s door blown off. Most of the town was on fire. Illyana made a snap decision and looked for people alive. She found a small girl burned and covered in shrapnel. When she tried to administer an emergency transfusion, Illyana’s blood erupted from the girl’s arm. and the wound closed on its own. At this point, she had had enough. She pulled out the book and cursed its very existence. The book opened, a single sentence on the page:
Welcome to the Age of Awakening.
And then the book sucked her into a black hole.
She dropped out of the void about seven feet up in a dark room, lit by dim green light. When she landed, she dislocated her hip, so she couldn’t quite see the man that was speaking to her in English. She could, however, tell that he had a terrible personality. He never stopped talking, and he said the stupidest things. Worthless noise without end. She mentally wished something terrible upon him, and when she rose to her feet eventually, she saw that he was cut open, his liver hanging out. So she got her wish, so that’s nice.
On another table was the girl she tried to save, Alexandra. She was covered in scars, and barely responsive. How did she get here? Did the book bring her too? Where did she get the scars? Why won’t this asshole shut up? She didn’t have time to think. She wrapped up his wound, which was…also closing up? A lot slower than the small girl’s wound earlier, though. She found crutches and followed the loud obnoxious man through…wherever they were. He said it was Canada, but that couldn’t be right.
This guy, Woody, might be a crude jerk, but he knew what he was doing. Probably former military. With the little girl in tow (who was taller than before…odd…), they made their way to the final door, which was locked. The book provided once again, allowing her to pass through the door, then…blow up the door. Wasn’t the stealthiest option, but it worked. Over the next month, they walked through Canada and across the border into Washington, where Woody had contacts with people who could give them new identities. Now a month removed from her initial ordeal, Illyana was ready to let it all be over.
They arrived at the safe house after a four hour drive in a…requisitioned vehicle. Inside the safe house, Illyana was greeted by a penguin (huh?), an alien (what?), two identical twins (oh, that’s normal), and a girl that could stop time (and we’re back to “what?” again). All these new, strange people, in a strange house, with strange customs…she froze, using an invisibility spell to try and hide. But everyone in the house could sense her, even the penguin. There was no hiding. This was where she needed to be.
At dinner, Woody started talking more nonsense, which was par for the course. Amira, the timestopper, talked to her about mutants. She described a red flash, very similar to what Illyana saw when she cast the spell. Maybe she was a mutant too… As Woody tried to get the alien to give him her eggs, Illyana started to open up. About becoming a mutant one month ago, about when she infected the girl that was sitting at the dinner table with them, dropping through a portal to Canada, walking across-
Wait, said one of the twins. A month ago?
Yes, a month ago, she said. On November 13, 2022.
…It’s 2025.
What?
…January 25, 2025.
And then Illyana started swearing at her book in at least two languages. Two years? TWO YEARS! How dare it steal that time from her? What right did it have?
The book opened again:
You’ve broken the shackles of humanity, unlocked the world.
The deed is done. You were to see your deeds.
…It all made sense now. The spell she cast last month…no, two years ago. Illyana had done this. The mutants…Alexandra’s condition…Woody’s surgery…the state of the world right now…it was all her fault.
In the middle of this crushing revelation, she finally remembered…January 25…her birthday. Happy birthday, Illyana. This is your gift to the world.
And then Amira said she sensed radio waves coming from Alexandra.
This was the moment. This is where the story began. Everything in her life had been leading to this moment. Working hard to provide for her family. Learning how to be a doctor. Taking responsibility for the people in her part of the wilderness. Prioritizing the town over the burning man. Every major event…
The creation of mutants was the first thing that was 100%, without question, her fault. Everything else she had taken responsibility for, she had chosen to. This…this was her mission. She weighed the fate of her small part of Russian woods over all the mutants in the world, and it wasn’t even a contest. She had made this mess, and she was the only one that could fix it.
So obviously, she used an EMP spell to disable whatever was broadcasting, set the 11-year-old girl on the kitchen table, cut open her stomach, and pulled out the device. Her first step in making things right. She didn’t know what the second step would be, but she had taken the first.
That's Pretty NEET 